Sing So Sweetly (Two-Shot)
by Freya Ishtar
Summary: Darcy unexpectedly stumbles upon Loki in the living room of the apartment she shares with Jane & Thor . . . while she's home, alone, of course.
1. Part I

**Yet another "Blame it on Brightki" story.**

 **Author's Note** **: The lyrics in the story are a Norwegian children's song** ** _Bjornen Sover_** **(The Bear is Sleeping). Hey, I tried looking up Scandinavian lullabies, and this was the best the internet spit back. Just go with it.**

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 **Disclaimer** **: I do not own** ** _Thor_** **or any affiliated characters & make no profit from this story.**

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 **Sing So Sweetly**

 **Part I**

Loki entered the small abode, a bored frown gracing his lips. He would not even be in this dreadful little _apartment_ —as the Midgardians called them—if not for keeping up appearances. Thor was under the impression that Loki allowed Odin to continue believing he was dead merely so he didn't have to return to imprisonment. Under the impression that Loki was graciously committing to a sort of probation—that as long as he kept his brother apprised of his actions, said brother would not feel pressed to report that he was still alive to Asgard.

Really, it was all to observe whether anyone was catching on to his continued charade—Thor and his _my temper guides my actions_ intellect was the surest barometer of this, as he would likely greet seeing Loki by hurling Mjolnir at him.

Loki shook his head. Not that any of that mattered, as the oaf wasn't even here to greet him. Honestly, one would think he could at least keep his days in order.

Huffing, he took a seat in a chair with a ridiculously full cushion to await his brother's return. Then again, his brows drew upward as he considered that perhaps it was he who was incorrect. After all, he had _so_ much to keep track of, lately.

There was a faint, metallic squeak in the distance and he turned his head toward the noise. Now that he recalled, a low sound of splattering water—like a fountain—had been present when he'd entered, he simply hadn't thought much on it.

Sighing he shook his head, once more. He did hope his brother wasn't going to be terribly long.

When he began singing, he did so more to keep himself awake than for the sake of revisiting childhood memories.

* * *

Darcy stepped from the bathroom, towel in hand. She started for her room as she patted her skin dry, but then, she heard the voice.

Frowning, she rolled her eyes. Hadn't those two left, already? Maybe they'd forgotten something. Whatever. She'd just been happy they were taking their lovely bullshit outside and leaving her in peace for a few hours.

She secured the towel around her body and ventured out toward the apartment's small living room.

 _"Bjørnen sover, bjørnen sover,  
I sitt lune hi."_

Halting in mid-stride, she blinked hard and shook her head. That _had_ to be Thor . . . . Well, unless one of the other Avengers had stopped in looking for him and had learned a Scandinavian language in their off-hours.

Frankly, she wouldn't mind meeting Captain America, she just didn't imagine he would be a very good singer. And she doubted he was bilingual.

 _"Den er ikke farlig,  
Bare vi går varlig."_

And _this_ voice . . . . She inched forward on silent footfalls to listen more closely to the near-whispered lyrics.

 _"Men man kan jo,  
Men man kan jo,  
Aldri være trygg."_

This voice was _beautiful._ Forcing herself to continue down the small, narrow corridor, she stepped into the living room just as the song started again. It didn't matter that she was in a towel; Thor's brain was so Jane-centric, Darcy knew she could sit down at the breakfast table naked, and he'd greet her with nothing more than a passing curiosity about why she looked different that morning.

 _"Bjørnen sover, bjørnen sover,  
I sitt lune hi."_

"Damn, Thor, I had no idea you could sing so . . . ." The words died on her lips as she saw the dark-haired man sitting in Thor's favorite chair.

She swallowed hard, feeling a blush creep over her skin as she held the stranger's—the _gorgeous_ stranger's—green-eyed gaze. "Sweetly," she said, finishing the statement in a whisper.

Loki stared at her in silence for a moment. Propping his elbows on the armrests of the chair to steeple his fingers in front of his mouth, he leaned back as he tipped his chin upward.

His brother wasn't the sort to have a dalliance behind Jane's back, yet here was this . . . . His gaze swept over her quickly, noting shapely legs, and curves barely concealed beneath the towel she clutched at her breast. This _attractive_ young woman, running about Thor's home clad in nothing but a bit of thick, white cotton.

"Now, who might _you_ be?"

Darcy let out a breath, the tension draining from her instantly and her shoulders drooping. The Scandinavian song, the appearance—Jane would never admit to it in front of Thor, but she'd given Darcy a pretty _vivid_ description of his brother—the _attitude_. She knew who this was, who this _had_ to be. Come to think of it, she was surprised they hadn't met sooner.

"Oh, _God_. You're Loki."

He couldn't help a smirk at her comment, crossing his long legs as he shifted to drop his chin against his fist. "Either one of those works for me, really."

Funny, he thought, how she seemed disinclined to be bothered by her current state of undress.

"Yeah, we're not going to do that," she said with a smirk—albeit a humorless one—of her own.

Her feisty demeanor called to mind a conversation Jane and Thor had had when last he'd _checked in_ with them, as Jane stated it. Yes, yes, her presence made sense, now.

"And you are Darcy, yes?"

She stood a little straighter, tugging at the edge of the towel with her free hand. Why she wasn't turning around and rushing back to her room to put on clothes was beyond her. "They told you about me?"

This was also a surprise. She so often felt under-appreciated around Jane, the astrophysicist, and Thor the . . . well, the _God of_ friggin' _Thunder_.

He nodded, his gaze drifting over her, once more.

She wasn't oblivious to his inspection. Alone, in a towel, with a super-hot Asgardian sitting in her living room. Yeah, if _only_ he could possibly think what she was thinking right now, but she _really_ doubted it.

"Well, um . . . ." Darcy cleared her throat as she tugged at the edge of her towel again.

His gaze drifted, with obvious reluctance, back to hers. There was the loveliest bloom of color in the girl's cheeks, and a faint haze in her blue eyes. He couldn't help but wonder, what _was_ going through her mind as she looked at him like that?

"Th—they're out. Should be back in a few hours."

He gave a thoughtful pout. _That_ long?

"Maybe you . . . ." She shook her head, her thick, dark hair swaying about her shoulders. "Want to go do . . . whatevs it is Asgardians do to pass the time, and come back later?"

He grinned wickedly, then, prompted by her continued state of undress. "Oh?" Loki stood from the chair, crossing the room to stand a mere few inches in front of her—so close the girl had to tip her head back to maintain eye-contact. "There is nothing which crosses your mind as to how I might pass the time?"

Darcy forced a gulp down her throat, her blush deepening. Okay, so maybe he could, _possibly_ , think what she was thinking.

"I—I, um . . . ."

His eyebrows drew upward as he held her gaze, his head tipping to one side.

She had to remind herself to breathe. Somehow, he managed to be even prettier up close. Weren't people supposed to be more flawed when they were right up in your face? Damn. It. All.

Rather than continuing to sputter at him, she put more effort than she knew should be necessary into turning on her heel. She tried not to notice that he stood so close their bodies actually brushed before she forced herself to step forward and head back down the corridor toward her room.

Tried, and _failed_ . . . . As she walked into her room, she had to let out a rattling breath.

A half-grin tugged one corner of Loki's mouth upward as he trailed after her. After all, she hadn't formally excused herself, or given him any reason to think she believed he _wouldn't_ follow.

Or that she didn't _want_ him to.


	2. Part II

**Okay- seriously—while reading this, listen to** _ **I (Just) Died in Your Arms Tonight**_ **cover by Bastille. Because I was listening to that while writing, and OMFG! And maybe** _ **Thinking of You**_ **by A Perfect Circle. _Dissolved Girl_ by Massive Attack (totally a Darcy x Loki song).**

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 **Sing So Sweetly**

 **Part II**

Darcy didn't know if she was relieved or angry when she heard the squeak of the loose floorboard in her room's entrance. So he just wandered in behind her? She wasn't sure what to make of the fact that she kind of liked that he had.

"Why did you—?"

"You walked away in mid-conversation." He feigned a thoughtful frown when she turned to face him. "Did you not wish to continue talking?"

Her mouth dropped open, but she really couldn't seem to come up with an answer. Was he asking if she didn't want to continue their conversation, or saying he thought she wanted to do _more_ than talk? God, her face felt like it was on fire.

His frown faded as he stepped closer, his gaze locked on hers. "Again, with that lovely color in your cheeks."

She swallowed hard, but only started back at him as he lifted a hand, brushing her jaw with the backs of his fingers.

"So very, very . . . _inviting_."

Darcy's brows arched upward as she scrambled for something to say. Again, he stood _so_ close—she thought if she inhaled too deeply, her body would press fleetingly to his.

"You . . . you think I'm inviting you?"

She hadn't pushed him away, hadn't said a single word to the contrary. Even the dainty hand which held her towel in place had slackened its grip.

One perfect, jet eyebrow flicked upward for the quickest second as he asked, "Are you not?"

Again, as she stared up at him— _Jesus_ , she thought for sure the way he was looking at her could melt an iceberg—unable to find a response. The hand at her jaw slid down the side of her throat and hovered there as he awaited her answer.

As the silence between them continued, Loki couldn't help a smirk. There was something so utterly wonderful in the idea that he'd stifled her ability to think simply by holding her gaze.

"If you wish me to go, you need simply say."

Darcy knew she probably shouldn't do what she was about to, but she also knew she'd probably regret it in the morning if she sent him away. True, most people regretted the _other_ way around, but she wasn't most people. And she couldn't remember how long it'd been.

And, really? When might she get a chance with someone like _him_ , again?

Flicking the tip of her tongue out to moisten her lips—and delighting when his attention wavered for the briefest moment to watch—she _accidentally_ lost her grip on the towel.

Those green eyes clouded a bit, but they remained on her face.

"Oops," she said, sparing a moment to bite her lip in a feigned expression of innocence. "I seem to have dropped my towel."

One corner of his mouth pinched upward in a wicked half-grin as he slid his hand around the back of her neck. "Shall I retrieve it for you?"

She shook her head. "Don't even think about it."

He pulled her to him, his mouth crashing down on hers. Darcy let out a whimper as his tongue thrust between her lips. His clothing—all thick fabric and stiff angles—scraped at her bare skin.

His hands wandered, stroking her shoulders, the length of her arms, the contours of her back as her fingers scrambled over him, trying to find the edges of his attire. Frustrated, she broke the kiss, speaking against his lips in hissed syllables.

"Seriously? What is _wrong_ with Asgardian clothing?"

A rich chuckle bubbled out of him as he cupped her face with both hands, kissing her again before responding. "Not to worry." With a snap of his fingers, he was as bare as she.

Pulling back, her eyelids fluttered in rapid blinks as she looked from him, to the pile of clothes on the floor beside him, and back. "What? How did you—?"

He winked, adoring the way she so obviously fought to maintain eye-contact, rather than letting her gaze wander over his naked form. "We all have our little talents."

Darcy nodded as she slid her arms around his neck. "Here's to hoping you have a few more."

She wasn't quite sure how they made it to the bed so fast—though she clearly remembered him grabbing her ass and lifting her to wrap her legs around him. He hadn't entered her yet, instead circling his hips to press against her teasingly again and again as he carried her across the room.

Loki lowered to his knees, extracting her from him to sit her upon the edge of the mattress. Holding her gaze, he moved back, watching her expression as he trailed his fingers down, over her breasts—stopping to circle the edges of his nails around her nipples—and lower, over her abdomen.

She uttered an unhappy groan as he deviated from course, tickling his fingers over her hips. When he smirked at her show of disappointment, she tried to grab his hand.

He moved just out of her reach, chuckling at her eagerness.

Those blue eyes narrowed at him. "You're kind of an ass."

"Only _kind_ _of_?" His eyebrows drew upward. "Clearly, I have been slacking."

When she dropped her hand back to her side, he moved forward again, drawing the tips of his fingers along the inside of her thighs. Once more holding her gaze, watching her face, he parted soft, slick skin with one hand. He rubbed over her clit with the fingers of his other hand, smiling when her eyelids drifted downward and her head tipped back.

She rocked her hips against his fingers, moaning softly when he slid the hand that had held her parted inside her.

He couldn't help a shudder that ran through him at the feel of her body clenching, warm and tight, around his fingers. Loki was relatively certain he'd had better control, once upon a time, but _now_ all he could think of was—

Darcy scooted back, suddenly, out of his reach.

He blinked rapidly as he watched her movement, confused. Until she climbed onto the bed and turned, getting onto her hands and knees.

She looked back at him. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks flushed, full lips parted beautifully. "Sorry," she said in husky whisper. "Foreplay is taking too long."

He stood, his gaze moving from hers to the oh, _so_ tempting bit of her that awaited his attention. "Normally I would disagree, but at _this_ moment, you are a woman after my own heart."

Climbing onto the bed behind her, he positioned himself with one hand as he grasped her hip with the other. Once more she made that delightful pleading whimper—as she had when he'd kissed her—as he pushed only the head of his cock inside her.

"I do _like_ that sound," he said, still holding himself there, amused at the impatient tremor that shook through her.

"I will make _any_ sound you want if you stop stalling!"

With a wicked, satisfied grin, he reached forward, curling one hand into a fist in the hair at the back of her head as he thrust forward, burying himself inside her.

"Oh, _God_ ," she said as she shuddered, arching her back to lift her hips for him.

"I could stand to hear _that_ a few more times, I think."

Darcy started to laugh, but the sound was cut off as he withdrew almost entirely and rocked forward. She clenched her teeth, an ecstatic scream tearing out of her.

He slammed into her again, and again, delighting in the noises she made, in the way she tried to push back against his thrusts, even as he held her immobile. She shuddered beneath him and he noticed the sight of her elbow jerking, poking out from under her body and then disappearing, once more—over and over.

His teeth sank into his bottom lip as he realized what she was doing. Slipping the hand at her hip around her body, he covered her stroking fingers with his own. He moved them faster, pressed them just a bit more tightly against her, and she trembled, another moan tearing from her lips.

"I do not recall . . . saying you could do that," he said in a low, mirthful whisper.

She answered between little, hiccupping sounds of pleasure. "I don't recall _asking_ your permission."

He caught her off-guard, then, relinquishing his hold on her and withdrawing, entirely. Before she could react, he scooped her up and turned her over, laying her on her back.

Holding her gaze, he held her parted and lowered his face, burying his mouth between her thighs. Darcy cried out, gripping her fingers into his hair, but fought to keep her eyes open, watching him as he watched her.

She'd never known any guy to do _this_ in the middle!

He sealed his lips around her clit, the tip of his tongue flicking and swirling so fast it seemed to pulse against her.

"Oh, _God_ ," she said, again, practically screaming the words.

There was a rumbling sensation as Loki paused in his ministrations long enough to chuckle against her. He thrust his fingers into her, the motions of his hand slow, and measured—a maddening contrast to the rapid pulses of his tongue.

She wondered—for all of a second—if he was trying to drive her insane. His mouth worked faster, still, and she was tensing under him.

Pulling away, again, he laughed wickedly at her anguished groan. "Oh, no, no, no, my dear. Not yet."

He crawled over her and she responded automatically, hooking her legs around his hips. Oh, he _liked_ this one—perhaps he'd keep her. Loki thrust into her, once more adoring the way she screamed at his entry.

Straightening his back, he rolled his hips, rocking forward, and withdrawing from her at a frenzied pace. He slipped a hand down, his thumb sliding against slick skin to stroke over her clit, in time with his deep, hard strokes.

She surprised him, yet again, her hands moving to cup her breasts as she stared up at him. He watched, fascinated even as he continued moving into her, while she kneaded the rounded flesh, every so often pinching and circling her nipples teasingly.

Once more, he felt her tense against him. This time, he quickened his pace, his thrusts sharpening to accommodate her.

Darcy threw her head back, curling her body so she lifted her hips, meeting his thrusts as the orgasm crashed over her. She didn't even care that she was mindlessly mingling shouting his name with her cries of _oh, God, oh, God!_

Her body clenched around his cock—such a pleasantly sweet feeling that a tremor shook through his muscles—and he grinned as he listened to her words.

As it ebbed, she started rocking, working herself around him and he let out a surprised breath. She liked that she'd caught him off-guard.

Recognizing the sudden glimmer in her drowsy-lidded eyes as one of mischief, Loki clamped his hands over her hips, holding her to him. He rolled onto his back, using his grip on her to force her into motion.

She leaned back, bracing her palms on his thighs as she rocked over him. Much to her delight, he was clenching his teeth, his breath coming out in harsh little grunts as he lifted his hips from the bed, thrusting up into her, meeting her motions.

Finally he stilled in one last, hard thrust. Darcy bit her lip, her nails digging into his skin as she rocked forward and back over him, so his cock moved into her and withdrew again and again as he came.

A shiver wracked him and she slowed by increments, until he was spent, entirely.

She pulled back, slowly, letting him slip from her, before she turned and fell beside him on the bed, catching her breath.

"Holy shit, that was amazing," she said in a breathless whisper.

Loki laughed, grinning wickedly at the ceiling. Oh, yes, keeping her was _very_ likely.

* * *

Jane frowned as she walked toward the rustling in the kitchen, tugging Thor along behind her, by virtue of their linked hands. Sure, if he didn't want to follow, it was hardly as though she could budge him, but he didn't usually fight her on things like this. They'd gotten home rather late, she'd thought for sure Darcy would be asleep, by now.

"Darcy? Hey, we brought home leftovers. Do you want—?" The words died on her lips at the sight of Thor's brother in their kitchen . . . wearing nothing but a loosely-slung bath towel around his hips.

"Oh, sorry. Did not mean to startle you," he said with a charming grin.

Thor's wide brow furrowed as he met his brother's gaze over the top of Jane's head. "What are you doing here so late?"

Jane whirled to look up at him. "You're _kidding_ , right? He's standing in our kitchen, practically naked, and _that's_ your question?" She turned back to gape at Loki.

Before she could ask anything, herself, the dark-haired man shrugged. "Sorry, seems I left Darcy a bit parched." He waved the bottle he'd just retrieved from the fridge. "She asked me to fetch her some water." He offered another grin as he winked. "Her legs were feeling a bit weak at the moment."

Her jaw dropping, Jane took an angry step forward, ready to let loose a string of scathing words at the mischievous being.

"Hey, Loki?" Darcy's lazy voice drifted through the small apartment, from the open door of her bedroom. "Where'd you learn to do that thing with your tongue?"

Jane and Thor exchanged a horrified glance as Loki shook his head, chuckling.

"We're just gonna . . . step right back outside for a bit, it-it's . . . ."

"Yes, it is not really that late, after all." Thor rescued Jane from her stammering. "Perhaps a walk?"

She nodded, spinning around to start for the front door.

Chuckling again, Loki started singing quietly as he strode toward the corridor that led to the bedrooms.

Jane paused mid-stride as she heard him. Glancing at Thor over her shoulder, she said, "He can sing?"

Thor winced, shaking his head as he gently pushed her back into step. "Just keep walking."


End file.
